


Threadbare

by thecatsred



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Mirrors, Non-Graphic Violence, Porn With Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Tailoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 00:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11452026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecatsred/pseuds/thecatsred
Summary: While overseas to secure some important business prospects for his clan, Hanzo finds himself desperately in need of a very skilled tailor.





	1. Chapter 1

Not even ten minutes off the plane before he’s been made. He’s got a tail on him two minutes after that, and his driver cannot shake them in these unfamiliar streets. Damn it all. He couldn’t just lead these men back to his hotel.

“ _Pull into the nearest parking garage. We can corner whoever this is in there_.” Hanzo instructs his driver and temporary bodyguard. He was much better in close combat, excelling in hand-to-hand and short to mid range weaponry. They would never know what hit them.

As his driver finds a place to go, Hanzo digs through his single piece of luggage, a small bag with only the necessities. He pulls out a nondescript piece of plastic and taps it against the back of the seat in front of him. A section of the seat pulls away, revealing an assortment of compact weapons and gadgets for him to chose from. He grins when he sees a handgun with the clan logo etched into the side, plucking it from its spot and turning it over in his hands a few times. He knew it intimately, like he did any of his other weapons. He designed it, after all.

As his driver rounds a corner, Hanzo finishes loading the gun and clicks off the safety.

“ _We are at your destination, Master Shimada_.” His driver instructs, pulling smoothly into a garage spotted here and there with other vehicles and plenty of darkly lit areas. Perfect.

“ _Thank you. Act like you are parking, grab my bag, and wait in the stairwell. If you hear any trouble, call for the men at the hotel, but only if my life is in danger. I should be able to handle these few myself._ ” The man nods, grabbing Hanzo’s bag and slipping out of the car smoothly, making his way where instructed. Hanzo waits a beat before opening his own door but not pushing it wide. He slides down low in his seat, eyes on the mirror up front, waiting.

His gun rests along his chest, level with the windows and pointing in the direction these men will have to be coming from. Foolish, the lot of them, taking on someone with as high a body count as he.

Headlights flood the area and he averts his eyes before the light hits the mirror. He hears a car park close by, one door opening and closing quickly. Surely they wouldn’t send just _one man_ after him? These American gangs are even worse off than he first thought.

Hurried footsteps take the man further from his vehicle, no doubt searching in the dark corners where one might hide, normally. With as little sound as possible, Hanzo pushes his door all the way open and slips out onto the pavement. His silence a testament to his years of training and more practical use. He spots his tail instantly. A fumbling sort of fellow with an ill-fitted outfit, loud boots and a gangly looking weapon. He’d be surprised if the man could even shoot it.

He stalks around the car next to his, keeping his eyes on the man up front like an animal would his prey. The man looks confused for a moment before Hanzo makes his presence known with the cold barrel of a gun pressed tightly up against the back of the man’s skull.

Hanzo can feel his driver’s presence behind him before he even sees him. Apparently he’d been watching the events unfold. “You’ve made yourself quite the nuisance.” The man begins to beg for his life, but Hanzo didn't want to hear it. “Quiet,” He says, turning to face his driver, eyes closing as he pulls the trigger.

The warm metallic slide down his face has him frowning. He lowers his gun, clicking on the safety and moves his free hand up to his pocket square. It’s a small, deep blue piece of fabric with an embroidered pattern of the infamous Shimada emblem. He pulls it out easily, and with a flick of his wrist, unfolds the square into something more useful. It’s not meant to soak up blood, but it does the job well enough for him to get by.

“ _Sir, your suit…_ ”

“ _Yes, I am well aware of it, thank you._ ” Hanzo snaps, growling a little in frustration. He doesn’t even bother looking down at himself, knowing the state he must be in. “ _Hand me my bag, then dispose of this filth. His car is somewhere behind. I don’t care what it looks like._ ” His man nods, handing over the keys and the bag immediately and getting to work.

Hanzo pops the trunk of the car, pulling out some sweats and a t-shirt. He doesn’t have much else appropriate to change into on such short notice. He peels off his soiled jacket and slacks, slipping on his new outfit with little fanfare. Once that’s done, he pulls out his phone, dialing a number and shoving his phone between his shoulder and his ear while he figures out what to do with his suit.

The call is picked up after three rings. “Shimada. You know better than to call my private line unless it’s an emergency. You’ve been in the states for what? An hour now? What have you done this time?”

Hanzo finds a plastic bag in the trunk and pauses with his task. “Nice to speak with you again, Amélie.” He hears a huff over the line, the closest to a laugh he’ll probably ever get from her. “Had some trouble on my way to the hotel, and now one of my suits is ruined.”

“A shame. Blood really is terrible for fabric.”

Hanzo starts to shove the suit in the bag. “Do you know a tailor in the area who can do quick work? I cannot show up to my second meeting in the same outfit.”

“That would cause a scandal.” Hanzo can hear Amélie shuffling some papers around. “You’re in luck, I _do_ know someone. I can have the information sent to your room. Where are you staying?”

Hanzo relays his hotel and room number, letting her know he’d be there in about fifteen minutes, give or take.

As he goes to disconnect the call, Amélie stops him. “Oh, and be sure to ask for a Mr. Reyes. Otherwise I doubt the card will be enough.”

“Very well.”

“Don’t get into too much trouble before the meeting tomorrow.”

Hanzo shakes his head. “Good _bye_ , Amélie.”

“Don’t say I never did anything for you, chérie.”

Hanzo finishes putting his suit into the plastic bag. A moment later, his driver returns, looking no worse for wear than when he left. “ _It is done, sir._ ”

He turns, closing the trunk. “ _Excellent. Please, take me to the hotel. I have somewhere to be once I clean up properly._ ”

“ _Right away, sir._ ”

 

\--

 

Hanzo stares up at the building through his window. It sat along a busier street than expected, the front display lit up with various styles of suits, all sharp in their own way. The door and the thin windows surrounding it are completely dark, however, suggesting that...perhaps he had the wrong place. Hanzo pulls a black card from his pocket, flipping it over. He’d nearly stepped on the damn thing going into his room, and nearly tossed it out before he realized what it was. One side of the card had a swirling, abstract design done in a brilliant gold foil inlay. The other side held the address and nothing else in the same shimmering gold.

Sure enough, the design from the card matches those on the windows and hanging over the door. Must not get too much foot traffic. That suited Hanzo’s needs for privacy just fine.

He’d finished cleaning once back in the hotel, removing the last remnants of the gang member from his person with calm efficiency. Couldn’t very well show up for a rushed fitting a mess. Well...more so than he already was. He slips the card back into his pocket and turns to his driver. “ _I am not sure how long I will be. Feel free to entertain yourself for the time being, but stay within a ten minute drive if I should need you, just in case._ ”

“ _Of course, sir._ ”

Hanzo slips from his car and makes his way to the front. The door held no information on the days and hours of operation, only a phone number and the address. If he hadn’t been directed here from a trusted colleague, and daresay, a friend, Hanzo would linger here no longer. But as it is, he’s in dire need of a suit that won’t hang from his frame awkwardly, like most the ones off the rack.

Pushing through the dark doorway and into the shop proper is an experience in and of itself. A soft smell of something spicy with a hint of sweetness rushes to meet him, instrumental music pours from speakers high up in the walls, and the relatively large collection and color selection of ready-made suits and fabrics around the room draw Hanzo’s eye. Several darkly stained wooden doors line one side of the shop, a heavy desk sits in the middle, some papers scattered about, a computer off to one side. Hanzo feels the need to stand taller, puff himself up like a bird on display, try not to look _too_ hopelessly out of place in goddamned work out clothes.

“One second!” He hears a man call from behind a door to his left. He busies himself with thumbing through some of the suits on display, looking to see if anything here was to his taste. He’d have to get a rush job, had no time for anything else. A shame really, this place looks like it does good work.

“Ah, sorry ‘bout the wait, sir. What can I do ya for?” Comes a question from behind, the voice a syrupy drawl that has Hanzo immensely curious as to its owner.

He turns, expecting someone perhaps several years his senior. What he gets, however, nearly has him doing a double take.

The man in front of him, ‘Jesse’, judging by his golden name tag pinned to his chest, is absolutely _stunning_. He’s in a suit that’s obviously been made specifically for him, the colors of the fabric complementing his skin tone perfectly, the lines of the suit leading down to a beautifully done taper to accent his shoulder to waist ratio. His pants hug his legs effortlessly, though Hanzo could tell there was plenty of room for him to move in them.

He has on a vest under his coat, a subtle pattern woven into the fabric that is reminiscent of flannel but it somehow brings the whole look together. Jesse’s rich brown hair is tied back in a short and low ponytail, no doubt meant to keep it out of his face while he worked. He’s got the beginnings of a beard coming in, however it’s kept mostly to the sides of his face for now. Perched on his nose sit a pair of dark-rimmed glasses, bringing attention to his soft honey eyes that have a few crinkles around them, though nothing as major as Hanzo imagined. The only oddity here that Hanzo could see, really, would be the black leather glove covering his left hand.

It’s only when Jesse shuffles and clears his throat does Hanzo realize with a start he’s been standing here, staring slack-jawed at this poor man for over a minute. “Ah, I need a suit.”

“I imagine so.” Jesse says, a playful glint in his eyes. “Name’s Jesse, an’ I’ll be workin’ with ya. Might I have yer name?” He holds out his hand.

Hanzo takes it, admires the other man’s firm and confident shake. “Hanzo.” Is all he supplies. A given name for a given name.

“Somethin’ on yer mind, or you just looking around? We offer made-to-measure and bespoke as well, if that’s more your style.” Jesse gives him a onceover, quirking a brow at his attire. Hanzo doesn’t shrink back from his assessment, has no reason to. He doesn’t need to prove anything.

Hanzo lets his hand drop from one of the suits he’d been touching, looking at a nearby wall that held more expensive brands. “I need something for a meeting Thursday. Would you be able to meet the deadline? I’ll need it no later than three.”

Jesse whistles low, walking along the wall and brushing the fabric of some of the suits with his fingertips as he passes them by. “There will be a rush fee if I’m fittin’ you. Will need ya to come back sometime t’morrow too. Make sure things are laying right.”

“Yes, I am aware. I will pay any fee necessary.”

Jesse nods, stops with his back turned. “What sort’a suit you have in mind?”

Hanzo moves in a little closer. “Something bulletproof, of course, stain resistant, and preferably something that blocks-” Hanzo is cut off by both of Jesse’s raised hands.

“Whoa, whoa hold up there. We don’t offer that sorta work here, sir. I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have ta leave.” Jesse gives him a firm look, no-nonsense. He means what he says, that much is certain.

Hanzo sighs, reaching into his pocket and handing the black card off. Jesse takes it cautiously, turning it over as if to verify its origin. He looks at Hanzo expectantly. Hanzo blinks. “I was told to ask for a Mr. Reyes? That wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”

“Ha! No, that’s my boss, an’ the owner of this shop. Dunno why ya didn’t just give me this when you first walked in.” Jesse’s back to being all smiles and easy-going nature in an instant. “You were sayin’ somethin’ that blocks what now?” He reaches the large middle desk and picks up a tablet, typing a few notes out.

“Unsecured transmissions, outgoing and incoming.” Hanzo finishes, reading Jesse’s shorthand upside down.

“Mhm, think we still got some panels we can just sew in when we’re doin’ the alterations. I’ll have ta take a look in the store room first.” He smiles brightly at Hanzo, moving back over to the expensive suits. “So! Any a’ these ones interest you?” He says, swinging out his gloved hand in a wide, arching gesture.

“I saw something in a nice deep blue over this way,” Hanzo starts, leading Jesse across the floor and to one of the racks he had been looking at earlier. Jesse nods, wrinkling his nose a little when Hanzo points out the suit.

He looks Hanzo up and down again, pressing his lips together, then touches the suit some more. “I got somethin’ else in back in almost an identical color, but it’s got this real light shimmer to it I think you’ll look great in. Stay here.” Hanzo watches him leave, a smile on his face as his eyes drift downwards. Everything about this man’s suit was cut to perfection.

Once Jesse returns, Hanzo agrees on the one he’s pulled, liking the feel of it against his skin. It reminds him almost of his more traditional clothing back home, items he doesn’t get much chance to wear anymore. Hanzo would have to return to this shop next time he was in the area to get something custom made.

Jesse pushes his glasses back in place, looking down at all the notes he’s collected so far on Hanzo’s tastes, what suit he’ll be getting fitted, and some of his contact information. The number Jesse gets is one of Hanzo’s many throw away phones for these very purposes, and he nearly feels a little guilty for it. He sneaks a sideways glance at Jesse’s striking profile as the man goes over some numbers with him. In another life, perhaps.

“Don’t see a reason I can’t get the work done on time. With the rush fee yer movin’ on up to top priority. Need at least a fifty percent deposit, then we can get ‘t work.” Jesse rounds the desk, pressing some things on the computer and turns to Hanzo with a soft smile. A work smile. Hanzo had no business eying him the way he’s been. “Did ya wanna get yer measurements done now, or later t’day? I recommend as soon as possible.”

Hanzo shakes himself out of his thoughts, reaching back into his pocket and pulling out some cash. “Now, please.” Jesse rings him up and hands him over a little slip of paper with all his information printed, including proof of his payment so far. Hanzo tucks that back away.

“Well then, now that’s settled, I’ll meet ya in room two if ya wanna head on in.” Jesse points loosely to the doors on the side. Hanzo hadn’t really noticed the numbers on them before. “Gotta grab a few things first. Jus’ be a sec.” Jesse passes Hanzo by at first, moving to the front and locking the door, then he wordlessly moves back to the room he’d first emerged from earlier.

Hanzo stares at the door for a little longer than necessary before making his way to the appropriate room. Inside this fitting room everything was brighter, a skylight making the space seem bigger than it was. Off to one end sat three mirrors all arranged to show off various angles of whomever stood in the center. The other side of the room had a small, soft looking carpet, a chair, a table with a selection of tools and things scattered across it, including a multitude of pins, and some other nicknacks Hanzo had seen before but couldn’t name.

Jesse’s coming in only a few seconds later, closing the door behind himself. He has a bright blue measuring tape draped around his neck now, a couple of instruments in one hand, and the tablet in his gloved hand. He sets the items he brought in on the table and tucks the tablet under his arm. “I’l jus’ be getting some ballpark numbers to start. Get all the upgrades you’re lookin’ for in the suit, then I’ll call ya in for your proper fitting, when we’ll pin things down till it looks right, sound good?”

“Yes. That will do.”

“You got a time that’ll be best tomorrow?”

“I anticipate any time after five will work well enough.”

“Gotcha,” Jesse says with a wink, setting the tablet on the table as well and pulling the measuring tape from his neck like one would yank out a tie at the end of the day. Hanzo finds the action oddly attractive.

Jesse moves around Hanzo, pressing one end of the tape against his shoulder and drawing it to the other side. “So,” He starts, getting into a rhythm of checking his numbers, recording them on his tablet, and moving back. “I assume somethin’ happened to whatever suit you planned to wear on Thursday, yeah? Bet that’s a fun story.” Jesse says conversationally. Hanzo realizes he’d no idea what he’s trying to dig into, but he feels the need to toy with him growing too strong to ignore.

“I got blood on it.” He says easily, disappointed he misses Jesse’s reaction since he can hear a little gasp.

“Oh, shit. You okay?” He clears his throat, and Hanzo can see out of the corner of his eye that Jesse touches his glasses nervously. “S-sorry fer cursin’, sir. Jus’ caught me off guard is all.”

“No worries. It was not _my_ blood.” Hanzo picks at one of his nails. Jesse stills, his hand resting on Hanzo’s shoulder for a little longer than was considered polite.

“Ah well,” He says finally, letting his hand slide down Hanzo’s arm and slip to the underside, lifting it up and out. “Ain’t gonna ask about that.” He presses the measuring tape down again, getting back to work, likely to distract himself.

Hanzo chuckles darkly, catching Jesse’s gaze with his own when he moves back to his tablet. “You would be wise not to.”

“I’ll bet.” He stands in front of Hanzo, lifts his other arm, then reaches around him almost in a hug to get some chest measurements, recording those as well. The room falls into a strangely comfortable silence after that, both men having sized each other up in their own ways.

Jesse occasionally gives little wordless commands here and there, light touches to move him this way and that. Hanzo tries his best to stand still for Jesse, holding out his arms or widening his stance when asked. The other man is back in his professional mode, only lingering long enough to double check his numbers and move on, hands warm on Hanzo’s skin wherever they touch.

Jesse moves to grab his tablet off the table now, bringing it with him while he stares down at the space between them.

“Which way do ya dress?” He asks quietly after a moment, voice oddly strained.

“Left.”

When Jesse drops to his knees for the final measurements, Hanzo has to keep his mind in check and his eyes elsewhere, but he’s finding it harder and harder to concentrate the longer the other man stays down there, fussing with his measuring tape.

Something is off, the atmosphere’s changed. He can’t place it exactly, but whatever it is has Hanzo twitching and filling out in his sweats. Hanzo couldn’t deny his attraction to the other man. Jesse is more than enough to get him going, especially considering all the leftover adrenaline from earlier.

Finally, Jesse looks up, pulling some of the fabric of the loose sweats tight across Hanzo’s thigh, trying to find the juncture of his leg and groin. When Jesse moves his hand holding the measuring tape, he pauses, his eyes flicking to Hanzo’s crotch.

He smiles awkwardly, glancing up at Hanzo in a way that has Hanzo biting back a moan. He adjusts his glasses even though they haven’t moved. _Jesus_. Jesse has to know what he looks like down there.

“It’s uh, perfectly normal y’know, sir. These things happen all the time. No need to be embarrassed or nothin’.” He’s sputtering, still trying his best to take Hanzo’s inseam but also not nudge against his erection too much. It’s sort of a hopeless endeavor, but Hanzo has to give him credit for trying.

“I am not embarrassed.” He says, watching Jesse’s expression carefully. He was always good at reading people, seeing where they stood, how they felt. None of them in his line of work were ever as easy to read as Jesse: his cheeks pink, tongue sneaking out to wet his lips, eyes wandering. Oh no, this man was a piece of cake. Hanzo grins.

“Oh.” Jesse nods, lowering his measuring tape and quickly typing out his numbers, his tablet pressed tightly against his chest. He’s yet to stand. _So easy._

“Tell me, have you ever been fucked in this room, Jesse?”

Hanzo thinks he can hear the other man swallow. “N-no!” Comes the stuttered reply, and Hanzo takes note at how red Jesse’s cheeks have gotten, how blown his pupils are. Jesse’s not bothering to look up anymore, eyes squared on Hanzo’s cock tenting his pants.

“Would you like to be?”

Jesse’s breath hitches, his tablet clattering to the floor as he scoots closer eagerly, hands clutching at Hanzo’s hips. Without asking or being asked, he’s suddenly surging forward, his face pressed into Hanzo’s groin, lips open and wet against him, mouthing drunkenly at his cock through the fabric. Jesse presses his nose along the underside, nuzzling him almost affectionately, tiny noises catching in his throat. Hanzo closes his eyes, bringing one hand up to rest on top of Jesse’s head. His hair is deceptively soft and silky, and Hanzo wishes it were down so he could take a good handful of it between his fingers.

“That’s it,” He urges, pleased when he gets a soft moan in answer. “Take it out.”

Jesse does as he’s told, reaching up and tugging Hanzo’s pants down just enough to pull out his cock and shove the waistband up under his balls. Hanzo knows how he looks, and really, judging by the dazed expression on Jesse’s face at the sight before him, Hanzo guesses he likes what he sees. Hanzo puts some gentle pressure on Jesse’s head, guiding him.

“Shit,” Jesse breathes, mouth so close now Hanzo can feel his lips brush against the crown. Before Hanzo even gets to say anything more, Jesse’s taken him into his mouth, suckling on the head reverently, his tongue slipping under Hanzo’s foreskin. Hanzo has to stop himself from bucking into that hot space, forces himself to stay mostly still, hips only jerking in small, aborted movements. He had other plans if Jesse was up for it.

Jesse sinks further down, lips shiny with spit. His eyes are closed, thick lashes resting gently against his flushed cheeks, a lone tear rolling from the corner of his eye as he takes Hanzo all the way to the root. His glasses have gotten smudged to all hell by now, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s got his gloved hand on Hanzo’s balls, using them to guide Hanzo back into his mouth after he pulls off to take a quick breath.

Hanzo keeps his hand on Jesse’s head, petting him like one might a particularly well behaved dog. He moves his fingers down every now and then to nudge his thumb against the wet corner of Jesse’s mouth, feeling the way Jesse’s tongue slides against the underside of his cock. It’s fascinating, really, watching him work with the same sort of competence and gusto as his _actual_ job. Hanzo has a brief thought of Jesse doing this for other clients and a flair of wayward possessiveness pulls him from the moment. “Stop.”

Jesse freezes, nose buried in Hanzo’s curls, both of his hands still on Hanzo’s body. He looks up questioningly, as if he’s afraid he’s made a mistake. Hanzo strokes the side of his face gently, pushes his glasses back up his nose with a finger, and Jesse gets this glassy look in his eyes, his lids drooping just slightly. Interesting.

“I don’t suppose you have lubricant in this building?” Hanzo asks, already guessing the answer. Jesse’s responding ‘Mm-nn’ around his cock has him sighing and trying to steady himself. He taps Jesse’s cheek with two fingers and the man seems to get the hint, slowly pulling back and off Hanzo with a slick sound. Hanzo leans down to wipe a line of saliva off Jesse’s chin. “We’ll have to improvise, then. Come, stand up. I wish to look at you.”

Jesse nods, scrambling to get up off his knees, his left leg a little shaky when he’s at full height. Hanzo had almost forgotten this man had several inches on him, tilting his head back to look Jesse in the eye. Hanzo regards him for a moment.

“Do you need these to see close up?” He asks, one hand reaching out to touch the side of Jesse’s frames.

Jesse shrugs. “Not really,” He admits, looking off to the side. “Why?”

Hanzo’s fingers close around the glasses, slowly pulling them from Jesse’s face. “I don’t want you to break them.” Is all he says, folding them up once he has them in hand. He hooks one end over the collar of his shirt for safe keeping.

Jesse looks wary for the first time since he entered this room. “You plannin’ on bein’ rough with me?”

Hanzo makes a face, shaking his head. “I’ve no intention of doing anything you haven’t begged me for.”

Jesse shuffles a bit closer. “I don’t much like begging.” He says, head tilted to the side, a touch of challenge in his eyes. Good. That’s what Hanzo wants.

“We'll see."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found my doc for this second chapter a few months out from the 1 year anniversary...couldn't pass up the opportunity :^)

“Come,” Hanzo turns Jesse's shoulder, directing him towards the mirrors. He's tucked himself back into his sweats on the way, though it does little to conceal him at this point.

He leads them both across the room up the platform, once again indulging himself with the sight of Jesse’s ass in his well-fitted pants. Something about this whole affair has his heart racing. Maybe it was the thrill of getting his hands on such a gorgeous man, being  _ allowed _ to touch him, despite the fact all of this had to be against company policy. Hanzo only ever followed rules that suited him, and it seems Jesse’s of a similar stock, willingly giving himself over to whatever Hanzo had in store for him. The implication of trust there also sets his mind ablaze. 

Hanzo had admitted to unsavory business practices not twenty minutes before, but even still…

Jesse’s kept his hands to himself so far, just waiting on Hanzo to make another move before he reacts again.  _ Smart man. _ Hanzo smiles at him, sharp, no teeth, just enough to be a hint of praise, and Jesse goes red with it.

Hanzo catches his reflection from over Jesse’s shoulder, amused at the juxtaposition between them. Still watching, Hanzo presses his face against Jesse's neck, what little of it isn't covered by his suit jacket or his tied hair. Jesse’s skin is soft and warm against his cheek and mouth, and smells faintly of some expensive cologne, almost sweet. 

“Do you have  _ any idea _ what I'd love to do to you?” Hanzo asks in a whisper, his fingers slipping over Jesse's jacket, undoing the button holding it closed. The two sides fall away and Hanzo takes in how Jesse’s shirt fits so snugly against his body, highlighting the man’s strength. He runs his fingers up Jesse’s stomach to his chest, squeezing at the soft muscle trapped under so many layers of fabric.

Jesse, for his part, just shakes his head at the earlier question. 

“You’ll soon find out.” Hanzo promises, dragging his thumbnails over Jesse's nipples a few times, looking down once they harden from his teasing. They are easy to spot through Jesse’s shirt, pressing tightly against the fabric and aching for more. Jesse swallows carefully, his breathing shaky but not yet labored. There’s still time yet for that.

Hanzo reaches up, loosening Jesse's tie. His fingers graze the man's neck, and when he tears his eyes from their reflection, he spots the heavy pounding vein in Jesse's neck.  _ Good _ . 

It takes everything in Hanzo not to rip the jacket from Jesse's body after that. He only slows when Jesse shoots him a disgruntled look and starts to do it himself, meticulously folding it in half, and half again, then lying it neatly across the back of a nearby chair.

Jesse steps back up, Hanzo's on him, pressing against his backside before Jesse even gets a chance to berate him for his careless handling of expensive things. Hanzo doesn’t care to hear the protests, instead he wastes no more time and pulls at Jesse's collar first, exposing a precious few more inches for him to devour.

He sets his lips across Jesse's neck at his pulse point and sucks greedily at his tan skin, teeth nipping and grazing sensitive areas without much direction, as long as Jesse kept making those soft, hitching noises. Hanzo briefly flashes his eyes up and the sight before him has him biting back a moan. 

Jesse has his legs spread some for comfort, his head tilted to the side easily to allow Hanzo full access to the skin he could reach. One of his hands is at his chest, continuing the work Hanzo started on his nipples with no lack of vigor, and the other gloved hand lightly traces the outline of his cock through his slacks. Hanzo's mouth waters. Any other time, any other situation, Hanzo would have easily seduced this man into his bed, and ridden him for all he was worth. But not today.

No, today was different. Today, Hanzo wants nothing more than to rip Jesse apart at the seams and stitch him back together, and all the while Jesse would thank him for it. Maybe it was the way Jesse’s body sang so sweetly for him; something about that deep, rich timber and the soft groans of appreciation... 

Whatever the case, at least Jesse would have plenty of memories of his encounter, Hanzo thinks, stepping back to admire his work. Three deep bruises sat fresh and tender along Jesse's neck, one not so concealed even by high collared suits.

“Sure did a number on me, sir.” Jesse murmurs after lazily opening his eyes, his fingers sliding up his chest to his neck, pressing down on a spot and hissing. “Gonna stay hurtin’ for days...”

“You’ll not forget me so easily.”

Jesse exhales, and matches Hanzo's look in the mirror. “Don't reckon I could anyhow.” He lowers his eyes once more, both hands going to his belt. The buckle is a pleasant muted gold, the leather a deep, rich brown that compliments Jesse’s suit finely. He only unbuckles the belt, leaving it in the loops of his slacks while he makes quick work of his pants next.

Hanzo figures it's more for convenience than show, but the visual is appreciated regardless. Especially so once Jesse forgoes any sort of hesitance and pulls both his pants and underwear down to his knees a moment later.

“I’d like t’ leave my shirt on, if it's all the same to you.” Jesse says, not shy about the way his cock twitches in time with his heartbeat. He's looking at himself in the mirrors. Watching the way Hanzo watches him. 

“I am more than happy with what I have here.” Hanzo says, slipping his hands around Jesse's middle to get both of his hands on Jesse's cock. He gives him a single, teasing stroke, bringing his fingers up to pinch at the bit of foreskin on the end and releasing. “Can't believe how hard you are just from having my cock in your mouth…” He says, voice low. 

Jesse flashes him a smile, but says nothing either way. Hanzo takes it as an agreement and hums appreciatively, turning his head to place a small kiss over the marks he made. He releases Jesse after another slow stroke, amused at the sway of his dick he sees in the reflections. His hands smooth down the front of Jesse's thighs, getting a feel of the sheer amount of thick muscle on this man.

“What have they got you doing when you're not busy tailoring suits, I wonder?” He muses, not really asking the question so much as letting it linger in the air around them. Jesse knew Hanzo was...not a typical customer, for a variety of reasons. Hanzo knew, too, that Jesse was much more than a tailor. But that question would remain unanswered, he thinks. He almost prefers it that way. 

Jesse stays quiet. Just as Hanzo expects him to.

“No matter, I just hope they pay you enough.” He says, slipping his hands around and getting a good handful of cheek in each palm. Jesse arcs his back just enough to press himself closer without seeming too eager for anything to happen. Too bad Hanzo’s familiar with all these tricks, having used them before on others. He’d humor Jesse, though. 

He was starting to like him more and more.

Jesse huffs, then finally adds on to the one-sided conversation. “Get paid just fine, sir.” He says. “Just uh, not for this.” He makes eye contact through the mirror, the golden tones gone and replaced with something dark and full of promise. “This is all me.”

“ _ Good. _ ” Hanzo says, giving Jesse another quick kiss to his neck, now almost using these as a reward, or sign of affection, even he wasn’t sure why he kept doing it. It just felt right in the moment. “Can you move up to the mirrors for me?” He asks gently, letting his breath ghost over the shell of Jesse’s ear. He drops his hands from Jesse’s ass for the time being, waiting to see what he’ll do.

Jesse looks up at him again with an expression that betrays so many things without him even realizing it, but Hanzo feels no need to point this out.

Hanzo knows now that if they had met any other way, at any other time, perhaps their roles would have been reversed. Hanzo would welcome it still, but to have Jesse like this before him, well. A delicious shiver runs down Hanzo's spine from that knowledge alone. This was a treat, a  _ gift _ in a way, and he was not about to spoil it. 

Jesse slowly makes his way forward, stopping once he’s a good foot or so away and looking up at Hanzo through the mirror. Hanzo nods at him and waves his fingers some, urging him closer. For the first time, Jesse hesitates, but he does lean into it after another beat, both hands - one still gloved - against the mirror and feet spread wide enough to allow him to keep his balance. 

And while that was a beautiful look, with the planes of Jesse’s body flowing almost into the mirror and out into the room each time he shifts, that’s not exactly what Hanzo had in mind. Not yet at least.

Hanzo closes in behind Jesse, pressing his forehead against the other man’s shoulder as he pulls himself back out, giving a few quick strokes to spread the pre that’s been gathering at the tip. He’d need whatever he could get for this to work the way he wanted. He snakes his arm around Jesse’s front, hand out and fingers slightly cupped. “Spit.”

Jesse blinks at him. “You’re not gonna-”

“No, no. You’ll see. Spit.” Hanzo reassures, bringing his hand up closer. “Trust me.”

Jesse continues to just look at him, but eventually, he lowers his head and spits into Hanzo’s hand. Even with the sudden rush of nerves that overtook him, his cock hasn’t flagged in the slightest, Hanzo notes. 

Hanzo slicks his dick with Jesse’s help and steps in against him once more. He pulls one of Jesse’s cheeks to the side to give himself some room, guiding his dick between the space and rocking against Jesse slowly. “Wish I had more time.” Hanzo whispers against Jesse’s back while Jesse arches some, correcting the angle to something he assumes is more helpful. Hanzo appreciates the gesture.

He slides one hand over Jesse’s cock, stroking him in time with his short thrusts between Jesse’s cheeks. Jesse’s red in the face, watching Hanzo work him over in the mirror instead of just looking down, almost mesmerized by his own reflection. Hanzo can feel how Jesse’s cock pulses in time with each of Hanzo’s thrusts, Jesse just as messy as he is, it seems. Works out in his favor, luckily. 

He strokes Jesse quickly, hand speeding up to coax more of the pre from him, and slowing down when Jesse starts biting back his moans. The teasing does something for Jesse, each time Hanzo pulls his hands off him, Jesse’s dick twitches, swaying under its own weight, and a fat drop of pre pearls at the tip. Hanzo gets his hand nice and slick, edging Jesse til the other man’s thighs start to shake and he’s a few minutes out from cracking the mirror with his gloved hand pressing harshly against it, supporting himself. 

“Press your legs together for me,” Hanzo says, voice lower than normal. He pulls his hand off Jesse’s cock finally while Jesse slowly gathers himself, panting lightly as he stands up a little straighter, thighs touching. He leans forward as well as he can, ass out and waiting eagerly for whatever else Hanzo had to give him, besides this torturous give and take. 

Jesse looks over his shoulder at Hanzo, eyes zeroing in on him slicking his cock more as he slips his hand between Jesse’s legs. “This okay, sir?” Jesse asks, mouth open as he tries to catch his breath. He’s got his head resting on his arm, bent to the side against the mirror, fingers curled into a fist. It allows him one hand free like this.

Hanzo spreads some of the slick in the tight channel created by his thighs, only stopping once his fingertips reach Jesse’s balls. Jesse’s already hot all over, legs still quivering from the teasing a moment ago, and Hanzo finds that whatever patience he’d manage to keep this entire time failing. “You’re perfect,” Hanzo says, grabbing the base of his dick and slipping it inside that tight channel.

Jesse inhales sharply, understanding now what Hanzo was doing, and he squeezes his legs together almost instinctively. His hand finds its way back to his cock, thrusting into his fist in time with Hanzo’s motions. 

Hanzo places both hands on Jesse’s hips, getting lost in the heat and the pressure and friction and the feeling of this strong man coming apart under him. Each shiver that runs through Jesse’s body, Hanzo can feel in his fingers, in his hips as they press against Jesse’s ass, through his dick trapped between Jesse’s thick thighs. 

He shifts a bit, getting a hand on Jesse’s cock once more. Jesse lets go of himself without any fuss and instead braces against the mirror better. His eyes are half-lidded, mouth slightly open and taking in shallow breaths, and he’s just watching himself be used like this. Hanzo notices he’s started to sweat through his shirt in places, the fabric sticking to his chest and stomach. What he wouldn’t give to have a whole afternoon where he just lavished attention on Jesse’s body in the form of bites and kisses, bruises and licks…

“Look at yourself. A thing of beauty.” Hanzo whispers, voice shaky, but he couldn’t care less at this point. He knew Jesse was a bit too far gone to notice anyway. 

He pulls his hand off Jesse’s cock, which Jesse instantly replaces with his own hand, and moves his palm over to the spot on Jesse’s neck he marked. His fingers push into Jesse’s beard, nails scratching through the thick hairs, pulling Jesse’s head up with the motion so he’d be forced to look himself in the eye. “You're close.”

Jesse’s eyes, blown almost entirely black, widen at Hanzo’s words. His hand on his cock strokes at a faster, nearly punishing pace. “Yes, yes fuck. Yes. Please, sir.” Jesse starts babbling, words catching in his throat as he tries to swallow back the noises Hanzo wishes he’d make. The slick sounds of Jesse’s hand on himself, and Hanzo’s thrusting are really the only noises in the room, save Jesse’s labored breaths, and Hanzo’s soft moans of appreciation whenever Jesse remembers to tighten his thighs for him.

Jesse gasps, blinking back a single desperate tear. “Please, please I'm so close.” He says again. Hanzo looks down and sees a line of pre running from Jesse’s knuckles to his cock, some of it escaping his hand and dripping down to the floor at a steady pace. It takes all the willpower Hanzo can muster to keep himself from pulling away just to get a taste.

“Not yet. Hold it for me.” He says instead, but Jesse doesn’t seem to hear him, his pace unchanged. Well. Hanzo couldn’t have that. He releases Jesse’s neck and grabs the base of Jesse’s cock with his thumb and forefinger, forming a tight circle.

Jesse wines, eyes screwed shut. He lets go of himself and slumps forward against the mirrors. Apparently he was closer than he let on. A minute later, he swallows and lets out a slow, measured breath through his mouth, trying to bring himself back down from his peak. “Please, sir.” He tries again, pleading ever so slightly, as much as pride would allow. Hanzo catches his eye in the reflection and smirks.

Alright, if that’s what Jesse wanted, who was Hanzo to deny him this? He wanted to see Jesse come undone, to see him fall apart in his hands so Jesse would know who was in charge here. Hanzo knows Jesse’s not used to this, but he’d fallen into place so easily, Hanzo wonders why someone hadn’t tried before. Just as the thought crosses his mind, Hanzo shakes it away. 

He elects to ignore the feeling of possessiveness in his belly as well. He has no claim to Jesse, but he’d be damn sure he was going to keep Jesse from forgetting him.

Still holding Jesse’s cock in his hand unmoving, Hanzo snaps his hips harshly, his dick brushing against the underside of Jesse’s balls and driving the man wild with it. Jesse curls in on himself, and tries in vain to thrust forward, but Hanzo was unforgiving. “Not yet,” He whispers, leaning up to place another kiss against Jesse’s neck.

Jesse’s sweating now, there’s no way he’d be able to continue his day without first changing, and something about wrecking Jesse so thoroughly has Hanzo close to tipping over the edge.

He flicks his eyes up at the mirror, catching Jesse watching him, and slides his hand up the length of Jesse’s cock, feeling the thick vein in there pulsing from the relief. When his fingers slide over the head, Jesse chokes, mouth open and head dropping forward as he comes all across the mirror in front of him, and onto the floor. Hanzo strokes him through it, though his movements are uncoordinated with his own erratic thrusts between Jesse’s thighs.

Jesse lets out a low moan, overstimulated and shaking, his legs tensing and threatening to give out from under him. Hanzo keeps a hand on him however, chasing that shivery feel, and getting drunk off Jesse’s small, hitching breaths. The space between Jesse’s legs is overheated and slippery, and with just a few more thrusts, Hanzo empties himself all along Jesse’s thighs, some of his spend joining Jesse’s on the floor, but most of it on the man himself. 

When Hanzo pulls his hand from Jesse’s dick and steps back, Jesse nearly collapses against the mirror, just barely stopping himself from smearing the mess he’s made. Hanzo wipes his hand off on the side of his pants, pulling them back up carefully once he cooled down some. Jesse wasn’t the only one sensitive to the touch. 

Hanzo looks over at Jesse now, still slumped against the mirror and nearly unmoving save for his breathing while he tries to calm down. Some of Hanzo’s come had made it halfway to Jesse’s knee along his inner thigh, the rest smeared backwards when Hanzo pulled away. Jesse’s own cock hangs heavily and shiny between his thighs, while his face is splashed pink and bottom lip puffy from him biting back any noises. Hanzo wants desperately to know what sounds he could coax from the man.

Now slightly more presentable, Hanzo moves closer while he inspects his nails to feign disinterest. “Tsk, look at the mess you've made.” He says with a slight quirk to his lips. Jesse picks up on his tone right away, and Hanzo feels a surge of excitement when Jesse returns his own smile. It was unspoken, but with just that look, Hanzo had ended their little game. 

Jesse doesn’t say anything further, doesn’t need to. He takes his time standing back up and finds his footing. Once he’s upright, Hanzo crowds him again, unable to stay away for long. He places one last parting kiss on Jesse’s neck and turns to brush his lips over the shell of Jesse’s ear. “You should clean up. Would you like me to wait in the main room?”

Jesse shakes his head, and Hanzo steps down and off the platform to get out of the way. He’s suddenly painfully aware of where he’s at, and helpfully collects Jesse’s folded suit jacket from a nearby chair.

Jesse bends down to grab his underwear, using them to wipe himself off quickly before pulling his slacks back up, but leaving his belt undone. He looks at the jacket when Hanzo tries to hand it to him and hangs it over one of his arms, lifting it in gesture. “I gotta change anyway. No use gettin’ this dirty.” He says, grabbing the tablet he’d been keeping his notes on for Hanzo’s measurements.

He sighs and leans forward, plucking his glasses from Hanzo’s shirt, unfolding them with his mouth and sliding them back on his face. They might have been a little smudged. “Well,” He looks up after a moment. “Seems like yer all set, sir. I can make the final adjustments on your second visit.” While his voice betrays nothing, his eyes are twinkling and full of promise when Hanzo meets them. 

“Good.” Hanzo says, clearing his throat. “I’ll be in tomorrow evening like we discussed.” He lingers longer than necessary before turning around and walking through the door and out into the main room, and quickly out onto the street after that.

Once he gets hit with the city air, he takes a deep, sobering breath. His entire time within the shop, time seemed to move differently. He could have stayed in that room with Jesse for hours if he was able. He pulls out his phone, ignoring the looks people give him as they pass. “ _ I am ready. _ ” He says, hanging up once he hears an affirmative. 

Not even five minutes later, his drivers pulls up, and Hanzo slides into the car, dialing a new number. Amélie picks up on the first ring this time. “In trouble again? Just  _ what  _ are you getting into?”

“The tailor you recommended me, the service was most impressive. I wanted to call you to thank you personally.”

Amélie is quiet for a moment. “I see. When I told you to go there I meant for you to get a  _ suit _ , Shimada. Not get laid.”

Hanzo frowns. “I did no such thing!” He protests, immediately realizing his mistake when a soft laugh follows.

“I will see you at the meeting.” Is all she says before she hangs up. 

Hanzo really didn’t need his business partners knowing his personal life, even if Amélie was something close to a friend.

\--

The final fitting the next day was filled with plenty of flirting, too-long glances, and brief touches, but unfortunately did not result in anything further due to the amount of customers in the store at the time.

Hanzo walks back in early Thursday afternoon to find the shop entirely empty, save for a rather severe looking man standing near the front desk. He could see his suit in a clear wrap hanging up by the counter, and starts to approach. As he walks, he can’t help but look around for Jesse, and the other man seems to notice this if the scowl is anything to go by.

“Hello.” Hanzo greets, getting nothing but a nod in response. “I’m here to pick up for Shimada. My suit is there.” 

“I know who you are.” Says the man. He’s not wearing a name tag, but Hanzo instantly figures out who he is regardless.

“Are you Mr. Reyes?” He asks, looking him over. His face has some heavy scaring, old but still a bit wicked across his cheekbone and up his nose into his hair, which is shaved very close to the skull. His goatee is thick and healthy, and Hanzo resists the urge to run his fingers over his own to compare. 

“I am.” Reyes says, turning just enough to grab the suit, but never once taking his eyes off Hanzo. He’s used to this sort of treatment. And if this man truly knew of him, then he cannot blame him for his attitude. He hands Hanzo the new suit over the counter, which Hanzo accepts graciously. 

“Your worker, Jesse. I wanted to commend him for his professionalism. Is he here today?” Hanzo was not aware the man could scowl further, but somehow he manages it.

“No.” Reyes says. He crosses his arms and levels Hanzo with a glare. “We have cameras in each room.”

Hanzo freezes. He thought nothing in this world could shake him anymore, but something in Reyes’ steely gaze has him wanting to leave.  _ No _ w. “I see.” Is all he manages, reaching for his wallet and sliding several large bills across the counter. “For your discretion, and my apology.” 

Reyes doesn’t even look at the cash, just narrows his eyes. “About Jesse…”

Hanzo swallows. “Yes?” The plastic over his suit crinkles.

“He’s my son.” Reyes says, unmoving, save for a slight cock of his chin upwards. A challenge if Hanzo’s ever seen one, and not one he particularly wants to meet.

Hanzo nods. “Ah.” He steps back from the counter and quickly bows. “I should go.” When he stands back up, the cash on the counter is gone, even if Reyes doesn’t appear to have moved a muscle. 

Hanzo quickly heads towards the door, suit in hand, and slips back into his car. His driver wisely does not ask about the look on his face.

There’s another one of those black cards attached to the ticket on his suit, but this one was slightly different. On the opposite side, instead of a design, sits a name in gold:  _ Jesse McCree  _

Hanzo flips the card around a few times, trying to figure out what to do with it. A name can eventually lead him to the right person, if he put some of his contacts on it, but this was not a business venture, and Jesse was not a target. This was something much more personal. He places the card in his breast pocket and flips through the other tags on the suit, and that’s when he finds it. Written in pen, along the side of his final receipt, is a phone number. Hanzo does not bother to hide his smile.


End file.
